


Soap: #8

by Ignisentis



Series: 32 Ways To Say I Love You [8]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bucky Rightfully Roasts Irish Spring Soap, Idiots in Love, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, soft and sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-21
Updated: 2020-01-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:53:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22353658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ignisentis/pseuds/Ignisentis
Summary: Steve uses Irish Spring soap, and Bucky's finally had enough.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Series: 32 Ways To Say I Love You [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1602352
Comments: 18
Kudos: 202





	Soap: #8

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to part 8 of"32 Ways To Say I Love You," a series of fluffy ficlets wherein Steve and Bucky are happy, in love, and soft with each other. I'll be posting one a day from now until Valentine's Day, like the hopeless romantic I am. I made it to week 2 without missing a day! Whoo!
> 
> Set in a magical time after Age of Ultron where everyone gets along, nothing hurts, and the Avengers live in the Tower. Because the world is a tire fire, and I think we all could use something nice.
> 
> This is also an attempt to get my writing mojo back, so if you have an idea you want to see here, hit me up on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Ardeospina) and I'll see what I can do! Or just come yell at me there about soft boys being soft. That's fun, too.

“No,” Bucky hisses when Steve flops down next to him on the bed, freshly showered and wearing only his bath towel.

“Oh, yeah, it’s fine. You’re not in the mood, you’re not in the mood, Buck. No problem,” Steve says, scooting over a little to put some room between them.

“No, that’s not —” Bucky sighs and runs his hand through his hair. “I mean, I’m not  _ not _ in the mood, it’s just...you smell.”

Steve’s face pinches in confusion, and he raises his arm so he can smell his armpit. “I just showered, I don’t know how I still smell —”

“It’s your soap.”

Steve puts his arm down. “My...soap.” 

“Yeah. It’s disgusting.”

“It’s soap, Buck, does it really matter?”

Bucky levels a look at Steve that he can only describe as “you fucking moron,” which makes Steve laugh and flap his hand toward Bucky, whapping him gently on the arm.

“So apparently it  _ does _ really matter,” Steve says around a smile. He loves it when Bucky gets fussy about shit like this. It’s cute as hell, and it reminds him of when Bucky used to stand in front of the mirror with a comb and a tin of pomade and obsess over his hair, working at it over and over until it was just right.

“It does when your soap is an abomination, Steve. Not only does it stink, it would destroy your skin if you didn’t have the serum.”

“I think you’re being a little harsh to the soap, Buck,” Steve retorts, trying to hold back his laughter.

“A little — a little  _ harsh? _ ” Bucky scoffs. “To your hideous soap? Stay there. I’ll show you harsh…” Bucky gets off the bed and marches over to the bathroom like Nick Fury himself handed down the mission to retrieve a bar of soap. Steve snorts and scoots up the bed, grabbing a pillow and stuffing it behind his back so he can lean against the headboard. He crosses his ankles and folds his hands together across his stomach, settling in to wait for Bucky to get back and tear him a new one about the quality of his bar soap.

“This,” Bucky cries when he emerges from the bathroom, a bright mint-colored bar of soap clutched in his hand, “is  _ hideous! _ It’s an affront to soap! It’s unnatural! It’s gross, and I hate it, Steve!” He tosses the bar at Steve, who starts laughing at Bucky’s tirade before catching the soap.

“It’s just Irish Spring, Bucky, I don’t think it’s really _ that _ bad,” Steve says, turning the soap over in his hands.

“Irish...Spring!” Bucky sputters. 

Steve shrugs. “It’s cheap and it gets me clean.”

Bucky pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs heavily. “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear you say that.”

Steve laughs again. Christ, Bucky is cute when he’s all annoyed about little shit like this. “If it bothers you that much, I won’t use it anymore.”

“We should burn it is what we should do.”

“Can you even burn soap?”

“But then the scent would mix with that smoky campfire smell, and I literally might die if that happens.”

Steve barks out another laugh and gets off the bed. He walks over to the trash can and drops the offending soap into it. He wipes his hands on his towel to get rid of the residual soap left over from holding the bar while Bucky was ranting.

“Better?”

Bucky shrugs one shoulder. “I guess.”

Steve slinks over to Bucky, stopping in front of him so he can slip his index fingers through the belt loops on Bucky’s jeans. “You guess, huh?”

Bucky hums and wraps his arm low around Steve’s back, his palm settling on the towel, warm even through plush terry cloth. He starts tracing his thumb up and down Steve’s spine right above the towel, and Steve shudders a little.

“It’d be better if you didn’t smell like rotten clover and dirty leprechauns.”

“Oh, you’re an expert on dirty leprechauns, are you?”

“I’m an expert on a  _ lot _ of things, doll,” Bucky purrs, dipping his thumb under Steve’s towel.

Steve inhales sharply and grips Bucky’s hips. “What would you say if I promised to only use whatever fancy soap you have in the shower? Hmm? Would that make you feel better?”

“Then you’d smell like me.”

“Mm-hmm,” Steve agrees as he leans in to nibble at Bucky’s neck.

“Yeah-hah,” Bucky gasps when Steve nips at his jaw. “Yeah, that would make me feel better.”

Steve leans back so he can look at Bucky’s face, taking in his blown pupils and the blush rising on his cheeks. “Starting now?” Steve asks, teasing eyebrow raised.

“Fuck yeah, starting now. Back in the shower, baby,” Bucky breathes as he tugs off Steve’s towel before stepping back to pull off his own shirt. He starts walking to the bathroom, turning back with a sinful smirk on his face as he drops the shirt and towel on the floor. Steve’s feet eventually catch up with his brain and he hurries to follow. 


End file.
